


Rise and Fall

by almadsy



Category: Class of 198x (Web Series), The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Pining, Post-Season 2, Saving the World, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Trauma, Unrequited Love (at first), everything is true to canon except candy and sam's s2 hair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-05-13 04:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almadsy/pseuds/almadsy
Summary: After the events of Season 2, the 198X gang is left to accommodate back to life on Earth. Granted, it's not as easy as it sounds. Amanda is haunted by the past, Mike is in a coma, and Hannah's only way of coping is to get drunk and numb the pain. Meanwhile, Sam think's he's better off pretending none of it ever happened.... That is, until Earth is threatened by a force much more sinister than mind controlling spiders- and humanity's only hope lies in the hands of four intergalactic teenagers.(Everyone's angsty and traumatized by death, destruction, and eel-spiders, but they have to save the world again, which may or may not force them to address past feelings.)





	1. Ashes to Ashes

Amanda Hess hadn't been sleeping well.

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop_.

The faucet in the bathroom was leaking. Not that that was the only thing keeping her up, but it was, at the very least, somewhere to place the blame. She had moved in with her stepmother and half-sister into their low-income apartment complex behind the mall on the other side of town. Needless to say, that side of the family hadn't necessarily been blessed with the Hess fortune.

 _Stupid_.

A bitter twinge of guilt rose in Amanda’s stomach. What “ _Hess fortune_ ”? Her parents were dead. She had no blood relatives, other than her half-sister on her dad's side, Jamie. The place she called home had burnt to the ground in a fiery explosion, and she had nothing to her name besides the contents of her purse and the clothes on her back.

Amanda had hardly left the apartment since the fire, other than to meet with the family’s insurance agent. If anything, she’d try to collect whatever money she could from her parents’ death so she could eventually live on her own. After all, she was turning 18 next month- she would be legally independent, and she could leave this shithole town in the dust where it belonged.

Still, that wasn’t much of a comfort. Good things were on the horizon, sure, but Amanda had lost everything else. She couldn’t bare to face her friends. So much blood had been shed on Amanda’s own volition. Steve was dead, her parents were dead, Mike was in a coma- and it was all her fault. Maybe she deserved to be miserable. They may have single-handedly saved humanity from arachnid enslavation, but at what cost? Amanda was enslaved by the seemingly endless trauma and guilt that haunted her every waking breath.

She wanted to go back to October. Before this shitstorm even started brewing, before the mall and the spaceship and the aliens- god, the fucking aliens. Every time she let her mind drift, the images would flash behind her eyes, taking her back. Who could she tell? Who could she open up to, who could offer any consolation other than laughing in her face or threatening to send her to an insane asylum? Her stepmother, Linda, wouldn’t believe anything Amanda told her. She didn’t want to believe it.

“ _You can come up with all the crazy excuses you want, but I won’t tolerate it anymore. Your father told me about your ‘affliction’ before you disappeared. He said you were psychotic. You know what happens to psychos, Amanda? They get locked up. I’m not afraid to send you away- it'll be less for me to deal with._ ”

Amanda missed her friends. She missed Steve. She missed her old life, before this hellish nightmare began.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why the fuck are you here, Amanda?”

That… Was a good question. Amanda found herself in the alleyway behind the Springfield Mall, mind foggy, muscles numb, eye-to-eye with Sam Beans. She knew he’d be around here, anyways. In the few weeks adjusting back to life on Earth, Sam had taken to chain-smoking cigarettes behind his dad’s store on his lunch breaks. The bags under his eyes indicated he was getting about as much sleep as Amanda was, but they paled in comparison to the bruises on his face and his busted lip.

“Amanda.” He repeated, more insistent this time, but still hollow and cold. “I told you not to come back here anymore.”

“I _can’t_ -” Amanda immediately felt her voice breaking when she spoke, and she bit the inside of her cheek to hold on to her words. _I can't stay away. I can’t do this alone_. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I keep _seeing_ them, Sam. In my sleep, whenever I blink, I just need-”

“You _need_ to see a shrink.” Sam cut her off and flicked the ash off his cigarette. “Not me.”

“But you're the only one who understands.” Amanda blurted out, the weight her words forcing them both into silence. She clenched and unclenched her fist by her side, making sure she could still feel it. Making sure she was still real.

“I know you've been hanging out with my sister.” Amanda said like it was a surprise to him- some sort of leverage to threaten him out of this charade of nonchalance.

Sam took another drag off his cigarette and exhaled the smoke in front of him, unbothered. “And?”

“Did you tell her?” Amanda pressed. “About what happened out there? Us?”

“There _is_ no ‘us’, Amanda.” Sam said coldly, staring dead into her eyes. “I haven't told her anything because nothing happened. You're doing the same shit you did with Steve-”

“Don’t fucking talk about him-”

“There's no _us_ , it's just _you_ , being the same obsessive psycho-”

“Stop calling me that!” Amanda exploded, her voice shrill, and for a moment, she felt her fang implants bare from her gums. Her heart pounded and her blood boiled. “I’m _not_ a psycho.”

A little smile spread across Sam’s face, and he chuckled deep in his chest. He said quietly, almost gently, “Go home, Amanda.”

“ _Sam_ -”

“I gotta get back to work anyways.” Sam flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and put it out with the sole of his shoe, starting towards the back door of his dad’s shop. He looked back, catching Amanda’s eye. “And I’m serious. Don't come back here anymore.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Amanda crying over a boy was nothing new. But this was different than Steve, this was… Worse. Having had Sam so close, within her reach, only to watch him slip away and resent her more and more with each passing day. No, this was much different than Steve. At least Steve had the decency to let her down easy. At least Steve didn't pine after her one day only to toss her aside the next as if nothing ever happened between them.

… _Was_ she psychotic? Surely, at some point, there had been _something_ between her and Sam. Surely it wasn’t all in her head.

Amanda sat on the edge of her bed, half-listening to the man on the radio as he rambled on about Reagan. Sam had always known what was going on in the world. Politics, celebrities- he kept up with the times. It killed him being away from Earth, not knowing. She couldn't blame him for banishing back any memories of what happened- it was easier to pretend it didn't.

But not for Amanda. She tried to pretend, but it was nearly impossible when every thought eventually trailed back to the horrors of the past few months. The spiders with their massive, fleshy bodies and long eel-like necks, thrashing and crawling towards her, haunting her daydreams. The images were engraved in Amanda’s mind like they were tattooed on the insides of her eyelids. She couldn't get rid of them.

“I’m not a psycho.” She muttered to herself pitifully, wiping tears that fell from her eyes with the back of her jacket sleeve.

It was the same jacket she had worn across the galaxy, used to tie around wounds to stop bleeding, to drape over herself as she slept. She was just too afraid to go in the mall to buy a new one. Maybe she didn’t want to. Even after washing it, even after being ripped at the seams, bloodstained, and tattered around the edges, it still carried Sam’s scent. Not the cigarettes or the weed, but _him_. How the air smelled when they’d stumble back onto the ship after an adventure and she’d fall into his arms, holding onto him for support, the stability of having someone you love by your side through hell and back. At the time, they were lucky to be alive. Barely so, but still lucky. Lucky to have each other, two minds on the same wavelength, two hearts in spiteful love.

It had all gone to shit, now. Any efforts Amanda made to reach out to Sam ended in tears and frustration, leaving her more miserable than before. She had lost him. Just like she lost Steve, just like she lost her mom and her dad. Just like she lost everything.

Amanda didn’t try to stop the tears this time. They fell down her cheeks, burning hot, trailing down her jaw, under her chin, and dripping onto her hands. In them, she clutched the kobold collar with the dull amber gem in the center, a relic she had managed to keep through everything. It was what sparked the entire adventure. Had it not been for the collar, Amanda would’ve never gotten close to Sam. She wouldn’t have fallen completely head-over-heels for him, she wouldn’t have been driven to insanity, she wouldn't have killed Steve. Her parents wouldn’t be dead. Her house wouldn’t be a pile of ash and rubble on Queens Street, and she wouldn’t be miserable every single day of her life. If only it hadn’t been for those damn kobolds, the damn collars, and the damn portal-

Amanda chucked the collar at the wall, furious. It clanged against the plaster, chipping off some of the paint, and hit the floor with a quiet _thud_.

A door slammed outside her room, and then Amanda’s flew open.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you so loud for?” Amanda’s half-sister, Jamie, stood in the threshold of her door with fire in her eyes.

Amanda quickly wiped the tears away again, trying to hide her face. “Something fell off my damn shelf, chill out.”

“ _Something fell off your shelf_ ,” Jamie echoed in disbelief, rolling her eyes. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, still glaring at Amanda. “Listen, I don’t know what’s been going on with you, but you need to either drop the act or get over it.”

“Yeah, okay.” Amanda mumbled, almost chuckling at the irony.

“You hardly leave your room. You’re not eating anymore, my mom said you _dropped out of school_ -”

“I didn’t drop out.” Amanda refuted and matched her sister’s hard stare, trying to sound tough but mostly just coming across as desperate and miserable. Instant regret rose in the pits of her stomach as Jamie caught a glimpse of her face. _Great_.

Jamie’s expression instantly softened at the sight of her sister, puffy eyes and rosy, tear-stained cheeks. She entered Amanda’s room, walked to where she sat at the edge of her bed, and tipped her chin up so that Amanda couldn’t hide her face. They had each other’s eyes- a deep, soulful, blue that reflected some unspoken, sisterly understanding. And that’s exactly what passed through them in that moment. Amanda was hurt, far beyond any sort of repair. All she needed was some sort of consolation, but where could she begin? How could she explain without sounding crazy?

“What's been going on with you, Amanda?” Jamie said in a soft voice.

Amanda shook her head, pushing Jamie’s hand away. “Nothing you'd believe.” She ducked her head, feeling a lump rise in her throat.

Jamie sat beside her on the edge of the bed. Neither of them spoke, just sat in each other's company. Amanda held back her tears. Ever since the accident, ever since the adventure had ended, Amanda had felt like there was a piece of her soul missing. A hole in her life that was once filled with happiness and spontaneity- now just an empty, painful chasm. Every time she was reminded of all she had lost, the floodgates opened again and she’d break down into tears.

This was no exception. Her sister wasn't the most sympathetic person in the world, but she could definitely sense when something was awry- and something was definitely very, very awry.

“I’m here for you.” Jamie broke the silence, her tone genuine and soft. “Always.”

Amanda just nodded, afraid that her voice would give out if she tried to speak. She couldn't tell her about Sam- not now, not anticipating what could happen if she knew. Sam and Jamie had been friends for years- even before Amanda met him in high school- and they were practically inseparable. Telling Jamie about her and Sam could backfire, or even worse, estrange Amanda from the one person she was coming to trust.

“I’m going to a party this weekend,” Jamie spoke again- taking on a much more lighthearted tone. “I think it would be good for you to get out of the house and actually socialize with other people. It might even break you out of this slump.”

“I don't wanna go out.” Amanda muttered.

Jamie nudged Amanda’s arm playfully. “ _C’mon_ , it'll be fun.” She pressed. “We can get drunk, talk to guys, just… Forget about everything.”

Amanda shrugged, sniffling. The tightness in her throat had subsided, though her eyes remained puffy and her eyelashes damp. “I don't know.” She turned to look at her sister. “Can I think about it?”

Jamie smiled warmly. “Of course.” She said.

Jamie opened her arms to offer her sister a hug. Amanda leaned in without hesitation, wrapping her arms around her sister’s middle, sighing into the warm embrace. It had been too long since Amanda actually hugged someone. Jamie reached up to stroke the back of Amanda’s head, her hair now cut into a short bob that fell in feathery strands around her neck.

“Just don't think too hard, okay?”

Amanda sat back and nodded, chuckling lightly. “Okay.”

Jamie stood from the edge of Amanda’s bed and headed towards the door, stopping to glance back. “And wash your hair, for god’s sake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I've been writing this ever since the finale, it just took me awhile to finally bite the bullet and post it. Chapters 2 and 3 are already posted!


	2. White Light

“I hate you.”

Hannah Lee sat at the edge of a hospital bed, eyes fixed on her comatose best friend. Even unconscious, Mike Jaundice still had this faint, dumb smile on his face. He looked more than happy to be in a coma. Anywhere _but_ this sick reality would be better than going through what Hannah was going through. Picking up the pieces was impossible to do on her own.

“Can you just fucking wake up, now?” Hannah said blandly. She had pleaded with him a million times before. Now would be no different. “It’s not fair.” She paused, clenching her jaw hard. “It’s not fair that you're in there, and I’m out here. You get to just… _Sleep_. And I have to stay conscious on this piece of shit earth, eating and breathing and missing your stupid ass.”

Hannah sighed. He probably couldn't even hear her. For all she knew, she could be talking to a dead man. She just wanted to hear his voice again, or poke fun at Amanda just to make him laugh. She’d do anything for another day, another hour- even just another _minute_  with her best friend.

“ _Please come back_.” Hannah tried not to let her emotions get the best of her, but she couldn't stop tears from welling in her eyes. “This shit is hard without you.”

She held Mike’s lifeless hand in hers, running her thumb over his knuckles, making sure not to bump the various tubes sticking out of his hand. Mike’s skin was cold. She wanted to put another blanket on him, give him her hoodie, do _something_ to help him. She felt utterly fucking useless.

After a moment, Hannah stood from the chair beside Mike’s bed and took a deep breath to compose herself. She went through her daily routine of pouring fresh water in the flower vases by the window, turning on the radio next to Mike’s bed, and placing a fresh cup of ice water on the side table. Standing at the door on her way out, Hannah did a double-take, then a triple-take… Just to be sure.

“See ya later, Mike.”

 

* * *

 

Hannah sped down the hallway to get to the elevator, avoiding eye contact with the nurses and anxiously pulling at her hoodie sleeves. Mike was her rock. Without him, she had nothing to keep her grounded. Part of her was afraid she might just float away, like a forgotten _“get well soon”_ balloon.

As soon as she made it into the hospital elevator, Hannah pulled a small flask out of her hoodie pocket and unscrewed the top, throwing back her head and downing about two shots of vodka. Instant relief flooded her body, followed by a short wave of dizziness. She clutched the bars on the elevator, but managed to stabilize herself and pocket the flask before the elevator doors opened again.

Living in downtown Springfield, Hannah’s house was only a few blocks away from the hospital Mike was being treated at. She doubted Mike's mom even knew he was hospitalized, so Hannah made an effort to visit him almost every day so he’d have company. She’d talk to him, vent her frustrations, or sometimes just sit at his bedside. But no matter how much she said, he never woke up.

So, like any reasonable teenager, she turned to alcohol to cope. It took the sting off the loss and the craziness, and kept her mind from drifting too far into the past. Better to drink and forget than… Anything else?

Hannah had developed a habit of eavesdropping on passing conversations. A morbid tease of what life could be like had she not been sucked into some sci-fi video game then dumped back into the real world like nothing happened. Men in suits discussed business propositions, women wearing leg warmers and headbands bragged on their kids, and teenage girls that Hannah might've recognized at one point in her life gossiped about the latest drama. It was comforting, in a way. Maybe Hannah could be like them again. Maybe.

“ _Are you going to that party on Saturday?”_

_“The one at Cool Beans’ place? I dunno.”_

_“Yeah, that one. It’s supposed to be crazy, he said his parents are gone for the weekend and he got a new fake ID, so…_ ”

The two girls passing Hannah faded off into the rest of the voices around her on the sidewalk. Cool Beans? As in _Sam_? Hannah thought he skipped town. Last she saw of him, he was blowing up Amanda’s house and stealing his dad’s Delorean, not giving a fuck if he was alive or dead. Not that she could blame him for wanting to take advantage of his parents’ absence by getting shitfaced and forgetting his woes. That’s exactly what Hannah did, anyways.

But… Hannah wasn't one for parties. She was more of a solo drinker, just her and the bottle in bed at night, staring out the window at the piece of shit earth beneath her.

All things considered, alcohol came at a cost. Whether that was stealing from her parents or buying it herself, both were riskier than simply showing up to a party and maybe leaving with a few bottles of Jack Daniels in her hoodie. And hey, what could a little socialization hurt? She needed to talk to conscious people for a change.

By the time she had made it home, Hannah had come to a decision. She was gonna show up to that damn party, low or not, and drink to Mike. After all, it was the least she could do for him.

 

* * *

 

Saturday came as it always did, blurred in with the other days of the week. Not much differentiation. Amanda woke up at 5pm, stared at the ceiling for a few hours listening to the leaky faucet, threw on some of Jamie’s clothes, and got out of bed to check the mail. Jamie got off work around this time. She was a clerk at the mall’s Camelot Music, stocking CDs and vinyls and cassette tapes. She had always been a big music fan. _No wonder Sam liked her so much_.

Amanda mentally kicked herself. Up until that point, she had managed to not think about Sam all day. Granted, she had been asleep for most of it, but progress was progress. It was as if the thought of him was always in the back of her mind, dormant until something sparked a memory and brought it all back. Amanda sorted out the mail that was for her, and headed back towards the stairs to return to her room.

“So when’s that reimbursement money coming in?”

Amanda stopped in her tracks and turned around to face her stepmother, the source of the nasally voice. She hadn’t even noticed her enter from the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest and the same pointed look on her face that was always there when she addressed Amanda. She almost looked smug. Like she knew her stepdaughter would eventually come crawling back to her, and once she did, she could milk the shit out of her desperation. As if she had predicted this for years.

“As soon as I turn eighteen.” Amanda said, monotone. Talking to her stepmother wasn’t her favorite pastime. She furrowed her brows. “You know that’s… _My_ money, right?”

“And the child support your father refused to pay while I was raising my child as a single mother with three jobs wasn’t mine?” Amanda’s stepmother took a few steps towards her.

Amanda held up her hands defensively. “What my dad did or didn’t do is none of my business.” She backed up towards the staircase, ready to book it. “I didn’t make that choice.”

Her stepmother smiled wryly and shook her head. “Well now that your dad isn't around to shoulder that debt, someone’s gonna have to pay up.”

“No.” Amanda shook her head. “For one, fuck that. Two, _my parents just died_ ,” Her voice grew louder as she spoke, no longer trying to escape her stepmother. “And once I turn eighteen, _you_ won't _be_ my legal guardian and you’ll have no right to any of my money!”

“Then get out!” Linda exploded, her voice shrill, and pointed violently at the door. “I won't have you living under my roof if you can't even own up to the crimes of your own father-”

“My father is _dead_ !” Amanda screamed. Her chest heaved with breaths that threatened to become sobs. It wasn't until then that she realized her fangs were fully bared, her hands balled into fists by her sides. “And I _will_ leave! I never wanted to come here in the first place!”

Jamie’s car door shut outside. Amanda felt her fangs retract into her gums and she took a breath. “I’ll be back to collect my damn mail.” She said coldly, and walked out the door into the yard.

It was cloudy outside. Jamie sat in the driver's seat of her red Buick convertible,  smoking a cigarette and listening to that new band Sam was always going on about. She cocked an eyebrow at Amanda as she stormed out of the house, on the verge of tears. Jamie turned the music down.

“Everything okay?”

“No, everything is not _o-fucking-kay_.” Amanda huffed and rounded the car, jerking open the passenger door and slumping down into the seat.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jamie tossed her cigarette butt onto the pavement, turning to look at her sister.

“No.” Amanda grumbled and crossed her arms in front of her. After a pause, she spoke again, changing her mind. “Your mom is a bitch.”

Jamie laughed a little. “Yeah. You got that right. Cigarette?” She held out the pack of Marlboros, the same kind Sam always smoked.

“I’m good.” Amanda shook her head. “I think she kicked me out.”

Jamie pulled out a new cigarette from the pack and wedged it between her lips, checking her pockets for her lighter. “She kicked you out?” She asked.

“She’s still holding grudges against dad for leaving and not paying child support.” Amanda rolled her eyes.

“Dad is dead.”

“That’s what I said!” Amanda piggybacked off her sister’s statement, glancing over to watch her light the cigarette between her lips and take a drag off it. She wasn't gonna lie- she could use a smoke.

Jamie blew smoke out the window of her car. “Just… Don’t worry about it.” She said nonchalantly. “She’s always like this. Overdramatic. Controlling.”

“How do you even live with that?” Amanda asked.

“I just grew up with it, I guess.” Jamie shrugged, ashing her cigarette out the window. “No thanks to dad.”

Amanda scoffed. “Yeah.” After a second to think, she added, “Sorry.”

Jamie shook her head, dismissing the apology. “Don't be. My mom had me because she thought dad would stay, and… We both know how that turned out.”

Amanda saw a twinge of pain flash in her sister’s eyes as she spoke, but it disappeared behind cigarette smoke and a fake smile.

“But hey- fuck ‘em, right?” Jamie switched her tone on a dime, her fake smile turning into a genuine grin that spread across her face. She started the engine of her car, turned the radio up, and laid on her horn. She let out a whoop and slammed the horn a few more times as if she had suddenly gone off her rocker, not a care in the world.

It was deafeningly loud, the lot of it, but it was enough to get Amanda’s adrenaline pumping. Just as Jamie threw the car into reverse and whipped out of the driveway, Linda emerged from the house, baffled and infuriated.

“ _Hey! Fuck you, mom!”_ Jamie yelled at the top of her lungs, flipping her mother off as the wheels of her Buick screeched their dramatic exit.

“Yeah, fuck you!” Amanda chimed in. She was a little late, but it was still liberating.

And for the first time since she had crash-landed back in her own reality, Amanda was beaming from ear to ear. She looked at her sister through her hair blowing in her eyes as they raced down the street of their apartment complex. For a moment, Amanda thought that maybe being a psychopath wasn't so bad.

Jamie matched Amanda’s gaze and smiled. “So, you wanna go to that party?”


	3. Five Years

Given all the instances they nearly died together in battle, Hannah was fairly confident that that was, in fact, Amanda screaming in a red Buick convertible down Main Street.

 _“She’s really lost it now, hasn't she?”_ Hannah thought.

The sun had gone down by then, and Springfield was a cold, dark, and uninviting place to be at night. Luckily, Hannah knew how to kill a man. She was on her way to Sam’s place, where she was to drink and honor her fellow warrior, Mike, who had fallen in battle. Hannah hadn't told him about her plan because she didn't want him to worry, but she hoped she’d at least live to tell the tale.

Sam’s obnoxiously large house was about a half-hour walk from her own. Hannah could see it from behind a line of well-trimmed shrubbery, the glow from the windows lighting the house up like Christmas. Already, she could hear music playing from the open front doors and people shouting inside. Of course. Sam was probably the most popular guy at Springfield High School, but for all the wrong reasons. People knew him for the drugs he sold- and they expected no less from the parties he hosted.

But Hannah wasn’t here to get high. Shitfaced, maybe, but she wasn’t risking getting high around a bunch of creepy Springfield jocks who’d fuck anything with tits and legs. She could at least be aware enough to pull a knife on someone when she was drunk.

The two doors that led inside looked more like a gateway to hell, and some obnoxiously loud synth-pop song seemed to play from every direction. The house was already packed. People lined the walls and crowded in groups or pairs, dispersed throughout the entry foyer as far back as Hannah could see, talking and smoking and drinking. She didn't recognize anyone. She assumed it was due to the fact that Sam only associated himself with upperclassmen, but it was almost eerie how foreign everyone seemed to her.

She just needed to find the booze.

* * *

 

 

Amanda wished she hadn’t recognized the godforsaken fucking Delorean in the driveway. Of course. Of course Sam would be hosting the party, of course Jamie would be going, and of course he’d be showing off his dad’s car like it was his own. How typical. Sam was a phony in every possible way. From his feigned confidence to the lies he told himself to forget about the past two months- he was nothing more than a miserable fraud. And maybe that’s what infuriated Amanda the most, the fact that she had _seen_ his vulnerable side. She knew there was something beyond the flamboyant druggie act he put on, he had trusted her enough to show it, and then things went back to being the exact same as they were before. If anything, she just wanted to get through to him again.

But not tonight. Not with Jamie there. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and knew that she had to avoid getting near Sam at all costs if she wanted to maintain this sisterly bond that was forming. Not to mention, he told her to stay away. She didn’t take orders from him, or anyone from that matter, but… She cared too much about her sister to cause a scene.

Jamie led Amanda through the bodies, pulling out another cigarette and going through her routine of wedging it between her lips, sparking her zippo, and lighting the end. The entire house already reeked of weed and booze since the party had been going on for quite some time, so Jamie wasn’t necessarily contributing to the air pollution.

Amanda recognized faces and friend groups, but she didn’t allow herself to linger too long on any specific person. God forbid the word got out that she was there. For all Springfield High knew, she had disappeared off the face of the earth. And, to be fair, she had. Amanda hoped that, with her short hair and darker clothes, she’d be unrecognizable.

“You okay, ‘Manda?” Jamie shouted over the music. They had gotten significantly closer to the amps in the high-ceiling living room, so much so that Amanda could feel the bass in her chest and in her head. It was definitely a lot, but at least it numbed the pain. And everything else.

Amanda nodded in response to Jamie’s question. “I’m fine!” She shouted back. They both absentmindedly danced to the music, Amanda letting her mind drift to simpler concepts. She needed some damn booze. “You wanna go get some drinks?” She suggested, still escalating her voice to be heard over the music.

“You want me to get drinks?” Jamie furrowed her brows in confusion. Before Amanda could clarify, Jamie spoke again. “Okay, yeah! I’ll be right back!”

And just like that, Jamie had disappeared into the chaos, headed towards god-knows-where. And then Amanda was alone in a crowd of people. Though she knew it was irrational, she couldn't help but feel like everyone was staring at her. Thinking of what a _loser_ she was. Staring at her hair, her clothes that weren't hers and didn't quite fit her. How sad. A girl alone at a party? _What a freak_ . She looked around her, for any friendly face, any sign of comfort, feeling her palms clam up and her chest begin to heave. Amanda backed up from the crowd, trying to find someplace to hide, but everywhere she looked there was another stranger, _staring at her._

 _It felt like the mall._ It felt like being surrounded by the people with the backpacks, staring at her, waiting for her to make a move. Only this time, Steve wasn't there. Because she had killed him. _She killed Steve_. She was a murderer, a freak, a psycho-

“We need to leave. Like, _n_ _ow_.” A stern but familiar voice came from behind Amanda as a firm hand gripped her arm.

She whipped her head around to the source of the voice, to find- _Hannah Lee_?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Amanda stood, bewildered, staring in amazement at her former companion. “You look like hell!”

“We don't have time for this shit, Amanda, we need to get out of here.” Hannah started walking, still gripping Amanda’s arm, pulling her along with her.

“What do you mean? What’s going on?” Amanda demanded.

“I’ll explain later, right now we need-”

“Everyone shut the fuck up!” A voice from across the room yelled over the commotion. “Turn the music off- _turn the fucking music off!"_

Hannah paid no attention to the clamor going on across the room, just shoved through bodies on the way to the door, hardly even looking where she was going. All of the sudden, as if walking through a portal, the two breached the threshold of the crowd and walked right out into a clearing of people surrounding a television set. Until then, Amanda hadn't even noticed that everything had gone dead silent. The only sound in the room was the static from the TV, occasionally tuning into some interference.

Crouching by the television, fiddling with the antennae and the volume wheel was Sam. It then dawned on Amanda that _he_ had been the one shouting, and an even deeper, more unsettling feeling rose in her stomach. This was Sam Beans. He wouldn’t stop a party unless the goddamn world was ending.

Ejected into the open area of the room, Hannah and Amanda inadvertently attracted Sam’s attention. But… He didn’t look upset. Or angry, or drunk, or even high- he looked afraid. Upon noticing Amanda, Sam stood up. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I- I didn’t know-”

“We were just leaving, Beans.” Hannah said hastily, and started off in the other direction.

Before Amanda could even get a word out or a step away, her sister emerged from the other side of the clearing. Jamie’s eyes darted between Sam and Amanda, perplexed, and then to the TV. “What’s going on?” She asked. A vague question, considering _a lot was going on_.

Sam was quick to respond. “ _Nothing_ is going on-”

“ _We have just received live, breaking news here at the CNN studio,_ ” Everyone’s attention was immediately drawn to the television as it tuned into a news station. A female news anchor held a stack of cluttered papers, scanning over them. “ _Information previously unreleased to the public has been leaked by a group of hackers infiltrating a series of CIA databases, revealing what seems to be evidence of the long-running Apophis Conspiracy."_

“Apophis?” Hannah breathed, like she had heard of it.

“ _According to the leaked documents, Apophis 99942 is a near-earth asteroid that, previously unknown by the public, is confirmed to be on a direct course to hit Earth._ ” Dead silence fell over each and every person in the house. “ _Currently a level 9 on the Torino Hazard Scale, this will be the largest observable threat to mankind- and, if this information is correct, potentially the last.”_

A low-quality graphic of what looked to be a large space rock flashed on the screen. Amanda didn’t even realize her mouth was hanging agape until she saw that Sam had the exact same expression on his face. Someone in the crowd asked what was going on, but no one answered.

_“The Apophis asteroid is measured at a diameter of 450 meters and a weight of 26 billion kilograms. Having hidden the information from the public until this point, the estimated date of impact will be the 13th of April, in the year 1990. The president is currently unavailable for comment at this time.”_

Clearly disturbed and on the verge of tears, the news anchor proceeded to recite information about the hacker group and the government’s response. The room was dead silent, not a person daring to speak, afraid that it’d make it real. Amanda’s heart sank to the bottom of her stomach.

“That’s… Five years from now.” Someone in the house said as the shock settled in.

“Why can’t the government just _blow it up_ or something?” A voice from the crowd suggested. Someone else made a noise of agreement.

“We’re gonna die, aren't we?” A girl chimed in, and another broke down into sobs.

Amanda glanced to Hannah, who was deep in thought, then back to Sam. He stared blankly at the television. After everything that had happened, the spiders, the time travel- now _this_? This was way beyond anything Amanda could ever fathom, and she could see the panic setting in as Sam pulled his focus away from the television to look at the two as if he was going to address them. Sam’s eyes welled up with tears and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He ducked his head and rushed out of the room.

“ _Sam!_ ” Amanda called out, starting after him.

“Amanda, we need to go.” Hannah grabbed Amanda’s arm again, pulling her back, but Amanda hastily jerked it free.

“If _we’re_ going anywhere, _he’s_ coming with us.” Amanda pointed in the direction Sam went, not caring that she had an audience of horrified teenagers. Jamie looked between the two, dumbfounded.

Hannah sighed and gave Amanda a _‘really?’_ look. Amanda turned away from her and went after Sam.

 

* * *

 

_Fuck._

This wasn’t happening. This was _not_ happening, not now.

Sam paced back and forth on the backyard patio of his house, running his hands through his hair over and over. He had plans. He and his mom were going to take his dad to court for domestic abuse. He was going to take over the company, get rich, buy a mansion and marry some hot blonde.

 _Fuck._ He was so young, so full of potential and fire and passion, he could make a living for himself if only he had _more than five years left of his life_ -

Sam reeled back and punched the brick wall outside the back of his house, pain searing up his arm and settling in his knuckles. He cried out in agony, leaning his forehead against the wall as he felt felt hot, burning tears fall down his face. “ _Fuck!”_ He yelled.

“Sam?” Amanda’s gentle, inquisitive voice emerged from the door, and she stepped out into the grass of Sam’s backyard. He balled up his fists, turning around to lean back against the brick, and took a deep breath.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, his voice threatening to give.

The backyard was only dimly lit by a porch light hanging above the door, but it was enough for Sam to pick up on the concern in Amanda’s face. She was hesitant to approach him, cautious, looking back at the door and then returning her gaze to Sam. “I’m sorry.” She said, small, unsure.

Sam shook his head. “None of that matters now.”

“Your hand-” Amanda stepped forward and reached out for his injured hand, but Sam coiled back in a mixture of shame and disgust, grimacing.

“I can take care of myself.” He snapped, his words scathing. He wiped the blood on his parachute pants, ignoring the sting of the wounds and the bruises, and scowled at Amanda. He didn't need to be babied.

“So you're still your dad’s punching bag, huh?” Amanda said. She scanned Sam’s face for any reaction. “Guess it didn't get better after you disappeared for two months.”

“It got worse.” Sam’s body recoiled in fear, disgusted that he even said such a _weak, vulnerable_ thing- he instantly snapped back to his cold, accusatory tone. “I _told_ you-”

“I know what you fucking told me, _Samuel_ , I didn't come here for you.” She spat the words out like she had been rehearsing them, and Sam was taken aback by the sudden change. “My sister invited me.”

Sam chuckled darkly and leaned the back of his head against the brick, staring up into the night sky. The stars didn't offer the same comfort they used to. Knowing that Earth was but a tiny speck in the grand scheme of the universe was no solace when its habitation was only predicted to live for another five years. He expected so much more. To see the turn of the millenium, to _make it_ in the world, to raise his own kids better than his father raised him.

“Are you scared?” Sam whispered.

Amanda stood a few feet away from him. “A little.”

The backdoor of Sam’s house swung open, light from inside spilling out into the cold night, and the moment was gone. Hannah stood in the doorway, looking quite large for someone that was 5’4, accompanied by a very, very confused Jamie.

“I’ve been looking for you two, dammit.” Hannah started towards them briskly. “We need to go. All of us.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow at her. “I don't know what drugs you're on, but I’m not going anywhere.” Ironically enough, he spoke without any sense of urgency.

“Can you two just kiss and make up already?” Hannah said impatiently, gesturing between Sam and Amanda. “I _really_ don't have time for couples counseling right now, and we need to go save the world again, so figure out your differences-”

“Wait, save the world?” Jamie spoke up from behind the three. “ _Again?_ ”

“I’m as confused as you, J, I don't even know who this freaky Asian chick is-”

“Drop the bullshit, Sam.” Hannah cut him off.

She pushed up the sleeve of her hoodie to reveal the wrist-device she had purchased on Sigma, and pressed a button in the middle of it. All eyes were on her. A hologram projected out of the device and a robotic voice greeted Hannah pleasantly.

“What the fuck is that?!” Jamie’s voice got higher as she became more and more confused and frightened.

Hannah ignored her and proceeded to focus on the hologram, pressing a button on the side. “Identify spacecraft 99942.” Hannah said into the wrist-device. Sam, wide-eyed, glanced between the Hess sisters. Was Amanda in on this already? Did she come with Hannah?

“ _The_ _Apophis 99942 spacecraft is one of two nightmare-fueled ships in existence. Unlike its brother spacecraft, the Typhon 18612, the Apophis ship is mostly used in space combat, and is most notably recognized for the barbaric conquering of the largely inhabited planet, Trappist-1.”_

Sam’s face fell in horror. “Nightmare-fueled ship?” He repeated.

Hannah nodded matter-of-factly. She pressed a button and addressed the device again. “Who is the current crew of the Apophis 99942 spacecraft?”

“ _Information unavailable.”_

Hannah raised her eyebrows in Sam’s direction. “Do you know what this means?” She asked, to no response. “The government, NASA, _whoever_ \- they don’t even know what they’re up against. _We do_ . If this so-called ‘ _asteroid’_ is just another ship like ours, that means we might stand a chance fighting against it.”

“Can someone _please_ explain what the _fuck is going on?"_  Jamie raised her voice.

For the first time, Hannah turned to address her. “Who even _are_ you?”

“Amanda’s sister.” Jamie said like it didn’t matter, and gestured for Hannah to elaborate. “What’s this shit with spacecrafts and- and holographic sci-fi shit, is this some sort of prank?”

Hannah held out her hands in a _‘calm_ _down’_ gesture. “It’s a long story, _Amanda’s sister_ , but-”

“I _told_ you, nothing happened.” Sam said forcefully, and put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “Hannah has all these weird conspiracy theories, she’s-”

“Get your goddamn hands off me, Beans!” Hannah pulled a ray gun from her coat on Sam, standing back and aiming it at his face, stone-cold. “Drop the charade and help us or I’ll blast your fucking head off right here.”

“ _What the fuck?!”_ Jamie screamed, backing up.

Amanda just stood between Sam and Hannah, arms crossed in front of her. Nothing she hadn’t seen before. Sam held his hands at eye-level, watching Hannah, on-edge.

“What do you want me to say, _Hannah_?” The name rolled off his tongue like poison, and he even had the audacity to _smirk._ The corner of his mouth turned up smugly. He wanted to say _loser_ , or _freak_ , or _nerd._ But the way he said her name stung just as much.

Hannah pressed a button on the ray gun and an orange orb of plasma glowed in the barrel, whirring quietly. “You're lucky to be alive right now.” She said lowly.

“Am I?” Sam breathed, staring down the barrel of the ray gun at Hannah.

“I would give anything- _anything-_ to have Mike by my side right now.” Hannah’s voice was strong and unwavering. She glared at Sam. “He’s fucking stupid but he’d at least be more helpful than a coward like you.”

Sam felt his stomach turn, but he didn’t show it in his face. Yeah, okay, that one stung. He shook his head and reached up to push the ray gun aside. “I’m not Mike.” He looked at Amanda, then Jamie, then started off towards the door. “You guys go have fun _saving the world_ or whatever.”

“Sam, stop.” Amanda said, taking a step in his direction. He stopped at the door. “Hannah’s too proud to say it, but… We need you.” She paused. “ _I_ need you.”

Sam silently cursed his heart for having a soft spot for Amanda. _Fuck._  He wanted this nightmare to be _over_. He thought after the ship crash-landed in the mall and they all went their separate ways, they’d all forget about it and pretend it never happened. After all, how else would you deal with it? Everyone assumed Sam was a druggie anyways. Telling wild stories about travelling through space and time fighting Martian spiders wouldn’t be anything more than the ramblings of an addict.

And that’s when it occurred to Sam, whether he realized it or not, that no one else would ever be able to understand what he had been through- one of those ‘ _you-had-to-be-there'_ sort of things, but so far-fetched that there was no point in even explaining it. That Amanda and Hannah were all he had left. He could leave now and never see them again, just keep pretending for the rest of his life like some _coward_ , or he could join the fight and make use of his last five years.

Hell. If he was going to die, he may as well go out fighting alien rocket ships in space.

“Fuck it.” Sam turned around and looked at Hannah and Amanda, a spark in his heart and nothing to lose. “You got a plan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Chapter 4 is in the works, and it'll be out soon! Meanwhile, comments/kudos really help motivate me to write, since I do it all for you!


	4. Changes

“You got a plan?”

_Oh shit._

As it turns out, Hannah did not have a plan at all. In fact, she didn’t even think her _current_ plan would get this far. 

Just the other day, she had tucked herself away in a corner of the downtown Springfield library, stacks of Greek and Egyptian mythology books surrounding her as she alternated between reading and researching on the “Sigma Holographic Intel Device” ( _she called it SHID for short_ ). She hadn’t thought much of the names _Typhon_ and _Apophis_ at the time- just mythological gods of chaos and destruction, rival siblings that had no problem with watching the universe burn at the cost of their own misdoings. But mythology was just… _mythology_ , right? 

 _Sure_ , Hannah knew that the spaceship they accidentally found (and stole) two months ago took on the name of _Typhon_. But for all she knew at the time, that could have very well been a coincidence. After all, the name must have been translated through the SHID in so many galactic languages that any _real_ meaning behind it was lost… _Right_?

She had been standing by the punch table at Sam’s party when she realized just how wrong she was. Her SHID, which she hid beneath the right sleeve of her hoodie, had suddenly buzzed and beeped with such force that she could've sworn it was short-circuiting, but she pushed her sleeve up to her elbow nonetheless to check what was going on.

Hannah turned her back to the rest of the partygoers and covertly opened up the hologram on the SHID, reading the flashing text on-screen.

_“EMERGENCY ALERT: Hostile spacecraft Apophis-99942 entering solar system from warp. Take shelter immediately. Do not attempt to engage spacecraft or communicate via radio transmission. Check Vexame Projectors for local updates.”_

Hannah did not know what a Vexame projector was, or that warp was a _real_ thing, but that didn't stop her from being scared shitless by it. The alert reminded her of the traumatizing “ _emergency broadcast system alert_ ” tests they’d blare on TV when she was doing her homework with MTV on as background noise- only this time it wasn't a test. It wasn't even anything from Earth.

Once the initial shock set in and her fried nerves allowed the blood to flow back to her head, Hannah returned to her SHID. _Apophis_. _Apophis_ … 

 _Apophis and Typhon._ They weren't just silly made-up myths, they were _spaceships_. Typhon was on Earth, a kobold collar away from the ghost dimension it was hidden in, and Apophis was… On its way there. For _what_? To retrieve its brother spacecraft? To destroy the only weapon that stood a chance against it? To enslave the entire human race and use them as nightmare fuel as they go around destroying alien civilizations?

Standing in the corner of the living room, Hannah quickly scanned the crowd. _She had to find Sam and Amanda. They were the only ones that could help._

Now, Hannah stood outside Sam’s house in the cold with her two friends. She was able to see her breath in the light of the holographic screen she was staring down at, still attempting to come up with some sort of plan. She read over the alert again and again, trying to decipher what Apophis could possibly want, and what they could do to protect themselves and everyone else on Earth.

Hannah couldn't help but feel like she was bearing the weight entire human race on her shoulders.

She looked up at Sam, then to Amanda, who both looked at her expectantly, ready to hear the plan.

Hannah sighed heavily. “I need a fucking drink.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! I couldn't decide if I wanted to merge this with chapter 5, so I just left them separate.


	5. White Heat

Mike Jaundice was in a white room.

He didn't know how he got there or how long he had been there. All he knew was that there were four solid white walls, and whenever he tried to move towards them they only seemed to move further away.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe this was purgatory and he was just doomed to remain staring at these walls for the rest of time. He couldn't feel his hands or his feet… or the rest of his body. When he tried to move his arms or his head to look at himself, he became stiff and exhausted. Eventually, he just gave up trying to move altogether.

He couldn't remember much of anything, only that his name was Michael and he really, _r_ _eally_ wanted to own his own moving company. He dwelled on that peaceful thought, as it was one of the only thoughts he ever had, and despite the white room and the numbness, it made things more or less _pleasant_. He thought about boxes. And he thought about opening the boxes, and finding lots of smaller boxes inside the big boxes. And maybe even inside _those_ smaller boxes were milkshakes!

He was lactose intolerant, of course, but _boy_ did Mike love milkshakes. If he could only drink milkshakes for the rest of his life, he would. He _definitely_ would. Birthday cake milkshakes, to be exact. When he was a kid, long before his mom got into the cocaine, she would take him to Baskin Robbins on his birthday and get him a birthday cake milkshake. They would sit outside at the picnic tables and laugh about things Mike couldn't remember anymore.

He wished he could remember, but… he couldn't even remember the last time he saw his mother smile. During his time in the white room, he had heard his friend Hannah’s voice outside a few times. Even the occasional mutters of a nasally woman he couldn't recognize. But his mother’s voice never visited white room.

Maybe he _was_ dead. That would be the favorable option, anyways.

If he focused on one corner of the white room, he could almost hear Howard Jones singing to him through radio waves, and the longer he listened, the clearer Howard Jones became.

“ _And do you feel scared? (I do)_

_But I won't stop and falter."_

The sourceless light in the white room began to flicker. It had never done that before, and Mike would've found it eerie if it wasn't so thrilling to experience something other than the normal blandness he had suffered through for so damn long. 

And slowly, little by little, his hands stopped feeling so numb. Mike began to twist up his fists, feeling the muscles in his fingers tighten against his palm. The white room was now more of a translucent flickering box rather than a solid impenetrable prison cell, and beyond the walls he could see that he was _not_ standing in a white room, but lying on his back facing the ceiling of a different room.

His vision was blurry and his body felt as if it was weighed down by a bag of cement, but from what he slowly gathered off shapes and colors in his line of vision, he came to the conclusion that he was not dead, but instead inside of a hospital room.

“ _And if we threw it all away,_

_Things can only get better.”_

Mike contemplated for a moment. Maybe Howard Jones was right. He had no idea how long he had been in that white room, or how he even got there, but now he was free. As free as an immobile man could possibly be, but… _Hell_.

_Things can only get better._

And that’s when Howard Jones’s angelic voice was interrupted by an emergency alert on the radio that changed everything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters coming out today!


	6. Soul Love

Teenagers, booze, and the threat of an alien invasion don’t typically mix well. The three things don't typically mix at all, in fact. Not to mention that, quite frankly, Earth had only been invaded by aliens once. And only Hannah, Amanda, Sam, and Mike remember that. _And_ , on top of _that,_ most of them had been trying to forget.

And what better way of forgetting than drinking away your sorrows until you can't even remember your own name?

There was no doubt that Amanda was a lightweight. And to her surprise and amusement, so was Sam. Two shotgunned beers and two more shots of whiskey later, he was already stumbling around, rambling on about how he was the _"greatest galactic hero in the world_ ", and how he didn't get enough recognition for it.

Hannah sat on the couch with a bottle of vodka in one hand and the other outstretched around Jamie’s shoulders as she retold the tales of their adventures in space. If Amanda cared enough to listen in, she could hear Hannah occasionally slurring her words, trash-talking Sam’s aim and general reasoning ability.

But, Amanda was a bit too preoccupied at the moment to care about Hannah. Sam was currently on a drunken bender about the wild ride of his life since they had gotten home, and there was absolutely no stopping him.

“And _that's_ when I told my mom, _FUCK_!” Sam shouted conclusively, taking a bow after he finished the anecdote. 

Amanda applauded his bravery and took another swig of the beer in her hand. She hated beer. Absolutely fucking despised it. Both the taste _and_ the smell reminded her of cat piss, but not only did Sam think Amanda was cool for drinking it, she was also already _way_ too faded to care about what she was ingesting.

Sam looked around the room, wobbling a little at the sudden movement. Amanda watched this drunken idiot in awe and adoration, because the truth was… She never _really_ stopped loving him. Now that he had gotten drunk enough to the point where he’d actually talk to her, it only made Amanda’s heart melt more.

Sam’s eyes fell back on Amanda, and immediately lit up with a new idea. “Hey, ‘Manda, follow me.” He said quickly and eagerly, looking back to make sure Hannah and Jamie weren’t watching them.

Amanda almost immediately followed his instruction, feeling a little dizzy as she stood. Sam gestured for her to follow him as he led Amanda through the living room and up the stairs, down the balcony hallway overlooking both the foyer and the living room on either side. Amanda’s heart raced at this little adventure, following Sam around. Some part of her felt rebellious, like she was an innocent little girl sneaking off with some bad boy for the first time.

They passed several doors on the way to the end of the hall, marked by a large ornate wooden door that looked like it alone costed more than the apartment Amanda currently lived in. Sam stood on his toes to feel around on the top of the doorframe until a small skeleton key fell to the floor with a little _ting_. Amanda instinctively bent down to pick it up and hold it out for him before he could even turn around.

Sam’s expression melted into a kind smile as he took the skeleton key from Amanda’s hand and their fingers momently brushed together.

Amanda screamed on the inside.

It didn't take long for Sam to get the door unlocked and push it open with a low _creak_ , almost giddily entering the room and pocketing the key. “It’s in here somewhere,” He said, determination in his voice. He was on a mission.

“What is?” Amanda asked, to no answer from Sam.

He had led her into what she could only assume to be the master bedroom of the house, due to the sheer size of it and the balcony door on the far wall draped in half-open silk curtains. A large, old-timey brass gramophone on a display stand took the focus of the adjacent wall, and opposite the balcony doors stood a massive king canopy bed. The entire room reeked of wealth, much like the rest of the house, but Amanda definitely wasn't complaining. In some fucked up way, it was comforting in the fact that it reminded Amanda of her _real_ home- the one that burnt to the ground on Queens street.

Amanda shoved that thought to the back of her mind and walked further into the room to check out the gramophone. The horn was bigger than her head and a record was still on the turntable, waiting to be played. With a closer look, Amanda read the title- “ _Elvis Presley- Are you lonesome to-night?_ ”

It was on the A-side, the single listed on the front of the record. Amanda recognized the song from what her dad used to play for her mom when she was little.

“Your parents listen to Elvis?” Amanda asked, still focused on the gramophone, trying to find an “ _on_ ” switch.

“Nah. It’s mostly for show.” He said from across the room, rummaging through drawers and closets. He paused for a second. “It’s a crank, by the way.”

“What?” Amanda turned around to face him, confused.

“A crank.” Sam repeated. “You have to turn the crank and place the needle on the record to get it to play. It’s like, old-timey stuff.”

Amanda let out a quiet “ _ohh_ ” as she went back to examining the antique gramophone, her mind beyond cloudy from the booze. She wasn't sure how long to crank it or even which _way_ to crank it, but she went for it anyways. What would it even matter if she broke it? The world was ending.

Apparently whatever she did was right, despite Sam’s vague instructions. It took her a few seconds to crank the handle and figure out how and where to place the needle, but once she did, Elvis’s silky smooth voice rang through the room like a live concert. Amanda stood back and smiled, feeling accomplished.

Seconds later, Sam’s voice called out through the room. “I found it!” He yelled triumphantly over the music.

Amanda whipped around to see exactly _what_ Sam had found, which was…

“A bottle of _wine_?” Amanda asked, trying not to show her blatant disappointment. After all this time, she was hoping it would be something… More _exciting_. Like an ouija board.

“Not _just_ a bottle of wine, Amanda, it’s an 1864 vintage _Bual,_ straight from Portugal.” He said it as exotically as humanly possible, which made Amanda giggle with fondness at how much of an idiot he was.

“Come _on_ , this stuff is like- older than that gramophone over there!” He pointed the wine bottle at the gramophone, almost dropping it. Horror washed over his face for a brief moment, but he tightened his grip on it before it could fall to the wooden floor.

“Right, so… Maybe we should _drink_ it instead of shattering it on the floor?” Amanda chuckled, moving closer to Sam.

Sam shrugged, taking a step backwards towards the bed. “I don't know, Amanda, I’m not sure if you're _ready_ for these _exotic flavors_.” He waved the bottle around tauntingly.

“We’ve both tasted Sigma goop, Sam, and that's about as ‘exotic’ as we’re ever gonna experience.” Amanda crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at Sam. Even if she didn't want the wine, she didn't like the thought of Sam keeping it from her.

“Fair enough,” Sam raised his hands in surrender and sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the switchblade he had used to shotgun beers earlier. He stuck it into the cork of the bottle and twisted, taking a few seconds to pry it out until the carbonation sent the cork flying across the room towards the gramophone. It bounced off the horn, skewing the needle and causing the record to make a horrible screeching sound, then landed somewhere on the floor. The record continued playing a different part of the song.

Amanda couldn't help but laugh at the almost cartoony nature of the whole scene. _God_ , it was like her whole life was a fucked-up sitcom. She looked to Sam, who had spilled a bit of the wine on his own pants after the cork fiasco, but returned her gaze nonetheless.

“You wanna try it?” Sam held out the bottle.

Amanda shook her head. “Nah, you first.”

Sam shrugged and brought the bottle up to his lips, tipping it up ever so slightly to taste it. As soon as he did, his face contorted in disgust and he jerked the bottle away, coughing and making sounds of repulsion. “ _Fuck!_ ” He choked out.

Amanda grinned. “Is it _that_ bad, or are you just a pansy?”

Sam held out the bottle for Amanda to take, less like he wanted to give it to her and more like he wanted to get it out of his hands. Amanda took a whiff of the wine first- it smelled mostly like dirty socks and rotten fruit. She held the bottle up to her lips and took a sip.

The moment the liquid hit her tongue, her body instantly rejected it. Although she forced herself to swallow the bit of liquid she already had in her mouth, it didn't stop her from coughing and choking and sticking out her tongue as if having the damn thing in her mouth just made it all worse.

“That is the worst thing I’ve ever tasted!” Amanda exclaimed. “That’s fucking _poison_ , Samuel, are you trying to _poison_ me?!”

Sam fell back on the bed in roaring laugher, holding his stomach. He spoke through beautiful giggles and hiccups, “ _No_ , I’m not trying to _poison_ you, Amanda!” He said, his voice pure and innocent, almost childlike.

Amanda held out the bottle of wine again. “Then stop laughing at me, asshole, or I’ll force the rest of this shit down your throat!” She couldn't hide the smile that played at the edge of her lips.

“No! Have mercy!” Sam covered his face with his hands, peeking through the spaces between his fingers playfully.

Amanda laughed and set the bottle down on the nightstand, sitting beside Sam on the bed. She looked down at her friend. “So, how old was that wine, again?”

Sam giggled and ran a hand through his hair. “Like, more than a hundred years old.” He stifled a laugh.

Amanda looked back at the bottle, then at Sam, then the two burst out into laughter once again at the entire dumb situation. Elvis continued to sing his heart out on the gramophone, and though neither paid any attention to the song, their laughter eventually died down and it was the only source of noise between them.

_“Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?”_

Sam sat up and took a deep breath to calm himself down after his fit of laughter, turning to look at Amanda. His cheeks were a bit pink from smiling and his pupils were blown from the alcohol, but _God_ , Amanda thought he was the most beautiful thing on Earth. They just sat there and gazed at each other for a moment, Amanda’s bright blue eyes matched with the hazel of Sam’s. The lamp in the corner of the room cast a warm glow over the two of them.

_“Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?”_

And, as if by accident or maybe just drunken gravity between the two, Sam’s left hand found Amanda’s thigh. A surge of what Amanda could only describe to be electricity rushed through her body at the touch, the first time Sam had _genuinely_ touched her since Sigma. And it wasn't a demanding touch, or even a gateway to anything else, it was just… Comforting. And warm, and electric. It almost felt _too_ electric _,_ and Amanda barely dropped her gaze from Sam’s eyes as she felt a blush creeping up to her cheeks, trying not to smile.

“Uh- I’m gonna go see what Hannah and Jamie are up to, just to make sure everyone’s okay.” Amanda broke the silence and slid off the bed, standing up. There was no doubt that she was _definitely_ blushing like crazy at that point.

Sam cleared his throat and nodded, running a hand through his hair again as he straightened up. “Y- Yeah, okay, yeah. Good idea.” He said quickly. “I’ll be down soon.”

Amanda’s gaze lingered on Sam for a few seconds more before she turned around and walked quickly out of the room, waiting until she had shut the door behind her to lean against the hallway wall, her face as hot as an oven. It was all she could do to not let her legs turn to jelly beneath her. She stood there as she beamed up at the ceiling, bringing her hands up to cover her face while the butterflies in her stomach had a field day.

 


	7. When The Wind Blows

In the morning, Sam woke up to a loud, ear-shattering rap at the door.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds, we have a world to save!” Hannah’s shrill voice sounded like it was coming from a fucking loudspeaker, paired with the bright sunlight intruding from the half-open curtains.

But… Sam was confused, to say the least. _Lovebirds_? Who was she-

Amanda sat up on the other side of the bed, one hand held up to her head and the other propping her up on the mattress, eyes squinted nearly shut. She looked over at Sam.

Sam’s eyes grew wide. “Did we…?”

Amanda, repulsed, shook her head. “Ew. No. Gross.” She swung her legs off the side of the bed, taking a moment to stabilize herself. On her way out the door, she added, “How much of that shitty wine did you drink to think I'd _ever_ want to sleep with you?”

_Whoa. What wine?_ He looked around the room for any clues, his eyes eventually falling on the nightstand, and _oh holy fuck he drank all of his dad’s 1863 Bual_. He was a dead man. He may as well kill himself, because if he wasn't dead by the time his dad got back, he'd murder him. He’d bash his fucking head in on the kitchen island until his brains were strawberry jelly on the marble floors, and then spread it on his toast for breakfast.

On top of his acceptance of death, Sam also had to deal with the torturous headache pounding through his brain. He almost wished he would have choked on his own vomit and died in his sleep, because everything else that was shitty in his life suddenly came back once he was sober. _And why was Amanda in the bed?_ She _clearly_ wasn't into him, so how drunk was _she_ last night?

“ _Sam!_ ” Hannah’s voice carried through the house, instantly followed by Amanda’s noise of complaint at how loud she was being.

Sam groaned and managed to drag himself out of bed. He picked up the empty wine bottle, wishing there was just a _little_ bit more to help him with his hangover, and headed out of the room.

Walking through the balcony hallway, Sam looked down into the living room where Amanda sat cross-legged on the couch with a glass of orange juice while Hannah typed in something on her wrist device.

As Sam entered the living room, all eyes fell upon him. Jamie entered from the kitchen holding two more glasses of orange juice, handing one to Hannah and walking over to offer the other glass to Sam.

“You can have it,” Sam waved the offer off.

“You need it more than I do, bud.” Jamie walked up to him and insisted. “I appreciate it, but I wasn't drinking last night.” She said, taking the empty wine bottle Sam brought downstairs.

“Ah,” Sam took the glass, deciding he may as well chug half of it. Hell, it couldn't _hurt._ Jamie walked over to sit with her sister on the couch, and Sam watched as she mumbled something to Amanda, rubbing her back comfortingly. 

Sam was confused, still. Was Amanda mad at him? Did he do something dumb while he was drunk that no one was mentioning? _Hello?_

“Sam, quit staring at Amanda and make yourself useful.” Hannah said from the lounge chair by the coffee table, still occupied with her wrist device.

“I’m _not-_ ”

“Not useful?” Hannah looked up at him from the screen. “Yeah, I know. Where’s your SHID?”

“My _what_?”

She rolled her eyes to the back of her head and sighed. “Sigma Holographic Intel Device. S-H-I-D. _Shid_ .” Sam just stared at her, oblivious. Hannah clarified- “ _The wrist thingy.”_

“ _Oh_ _,”_ Sam finally caught on. “It’s in my room somewhere, do I need it?”

“Only if you wanna do something other than standing around, meathead.” Hannah shot back quickly. She didn't look like she was interested in any further conversation.

“Yeah, okay.” Sam said, furrowing his brows in confusion. “I’ll go get it, I guess.” He wasn’t really sure why everyone hated him today. At times like this, he really missed Mike. At least Mike was too dumb to actually hold grudges against anyone.

Sam’s room was back upstairs, which seemed like a mountain to climb for a hungover teenager. He made it up, orange juice in hand, and downed the rest of it at the top of the stairs. The pressure of headache slowly began to relieve itself, but the rest of his body ached like he had been running marathons all night.

Entering his room was like cruel torture. His bed looked so inviting, so cozy and warm and comfortable, and his room was so _him_ that he couldn't even imagine packing everything up and going out into space again. He searched the mess on his desk impatiently for what Hannah was calling the SHID, but instead found a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“ _Score_ ,” He said to himself, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it once he had it in his mouth and taking a deep inhale. _Yep_ , that's what he needed. His frazzled, frantic brain finally mellowed down to a low hum of noise, and he continued his search, cigarette wedged between his lips.

“So you're smoking inside now, huh?” A voice at the door startled Sam so bad he almost shat himself. He looked up to find Jamie, immediately shooting an accusatory glare at her. “Your dad is going to put a bullet in your goddamn head.”

Sam shook off the surprise Jamie had given him and took another drag off his cigarette. “Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “I drank a whole bottle of 120-year-old wine last night, he's gonna fuckin’ decapitate me.”

Jamie chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. After a pause, she spoke again. “So… You and Amanda, huh?”

Sam turned to look at Jamie, almost offended. “Uh, no. We’re just friends, I think.”

“You _think?”_

“I don't know, she's weird.” Sam shrugged. “I think she hates me, which is cool because I’m kinda lame.”

“Yeah, you are.” Jamie smiled. Sam waved her off and continued looking for his SHID. “I only ask because she went upstairs looking for a blanket last night, and she didn't come back down.”

Sam made a “ _mhm_ ” sound. “She must've gotten tired and decided to sleep in the bed upstairs.” He bent down to look under his own bed, gasping slightly as he caught sight of something that resembled his wrist device. He reached as far as he could under his bed to grab onto it, and pulled the SHID out triumphantly. Jamie wasn't impressed.

“I’m just saying, Sam, you can fuck around with _my_ feelings and shit, _I’m fine with that_ , but if you _ever_ hurt my sister-”

“I don't even know what you're talking about right now, Jamie, can you chill out?” Sam brushed past Jamie in the doorway, eyes focused on his SHID. He had too much shit on his mind right now to deal with Jamie’s dramatic bullshit.

“Are you _still_ drunk?” Jamie raised her voice slightly.

“Pfft, I _wish._ ” Sam descended the stairs and walked into the living room, glancing between Hannah and Amanda. They were in the same positions as before, only now Amanda was holding a TV remote in her hand, flipping through news channels.

“You find it?” Hannah looked up.

“Like a bloodhound, baby.” Sam said coolly, holding up the SHID like it was his bounty. Hannah fake-gagged.

“In that case, group trip to Waffle House?” Hannah suggested, standing up from the lounge chair.

“ _Yes_ , I’m literally starving.” Amanda finally spoke for the first time since she had gone downstairs, turning the TV off.

Sam glanced at her, then back at Hannah. “I mean, hey, I’m always down for some waffles.” He said.

All eyes turned to Jamie expectantly. She still looked pissed, but Sam knew she could never say no to breakfast. “ _Fuck_ , fine. I guess I’ll drive, then.”

 

* * *

 

Jamie went through exactly three and a half cigarettes on the drive to Waffle House. Amanda sat in the passenger seat while Sam and Hannah took the back, both fixated on their SHIDs.

Sam was the first one to figure out how to send digital messages to Hannah’s SHID. At first he just typed in random blurbs of “ _flrbp”_ and _“penis”_ but eventually he got around to asking _“do you think amanda is mad at me”_

Hannah looked over at him in half-disbelief and half-amusement. “Seriously?” She said aloud.

“Huh?” Jamie answered from the driver’s seat.

Hannah shot daggers at Sam. “Nothing, Sam’s just being a dumbass.”

“What's new?” Jamie smirked, and everyone but Sam shared a little laugh. Hannah returned to her SHID, and in a matter of seconds Sam’s greeted him with a buzz.

“ _get over yourself baked beans”_

Sam sighed and turned his SHID off, pretending not to notice Hannah smile smugly beside him. This was normal for her, and objectively normal for the rest of them, but Sam couldn't help but feel like something was awry. _Had_ something happened the night before? Neither Hannah nor Jamie mentioned an incident, but he supposed he hadn't heard much from Amanda either.

Jamie seamlessly parallel parked between a beamer and a mini like she had done it a million times before, turning the car off and craning her neck to look at all her passengers at once. “Alright, who’s paying?”

A sarcastic laugh came from Amanda in the front seat. “Good one.” She opened the door to Jamie’s Buick and left the car.

Sam watched, then returned his focus to Jamie. “Yeah, I’ll pay, my mom left some money for emergency.” He said hastily, and then pushed open the door to get out.

The other two followed shortly after, but not before Sam could half-jog around the car to Amanda. Jamie leaned on the hood of her car to finish her cigarette while Hannah strolled further off, leaving Sam and Amanda alone.

Amanda uncrossed her arms to push her sunglasses up over her hair, looking at Sam expectantly.

“Hey,” Sam said, admittedly like the awkward teenage boy he was. “Sorry about… Whatever happened last night.”

Amanda shook her head dismissively. “Nothing happened, stupid.” She said gently. A car whizzed past where they stood on the sidewalk.

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels. “I was just worried about you, I guess.” He shrugged.

“Thanks, _I guess_ .” Amanda mocked him in a low-pitched voice. Sam smiled a little. _He didn't sound like that_.

A gust of cold January wind blew past the two, biting at Sam’s nose and blowing Amanda’s short hair in her face. Before she could fix it, Sam stepped forward and carefully pushed a strand of blonde hair out of Amanda’s face, tucking it behind her ear. She giggled a little bit and looked down at the pavement. 

“You didn't have to do that, asshole.”

Sam just shrugged, eyes still on Amanda. “Sorry.” He said, not sorry at all. “You just, uh, you look really ni-”

“ _WHAT THE FUCK?!”_ Hannah screamed from a little further down the sidewalk.

Both Amanda and Sam immediately turned to look in Hannah’s direction, a million possibilities running through Sam’s mind of what in the everloving fuck could've caused Hannah's outburst. They both headed in her direction, trying to figure out what the commotion was for.

The sun was in Sam’s eyes as he walked, and all he could see was a silhouette of a man farther off stumbling towards the three- but something about him seemed oddly familiar.

Amanda stopped by Hannah, who was speechless, and they both stared down the sidewalk.

After a few seconds, Amanda’s jaw dropped in realization. “Holy fuck, is that-”

“ _MIKE?!”_ Hannah took off running in the direction of the silhouette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry this update took so long I'll try to get the next one out sooner. Comments and kudos make my day and inspire me to write!


	8. Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

Hannah wasn't much of a crier.

She didn't cry when she broke her arm skating when she was five. She had been racing her brother Benjamin, who was seven at the time. And, for the first time, she was _winning_.

Hannah didn't cry when the older kids at school would trip her in the hallway or shove her around at recess until she forked up her lunch money.

“ _Go back to China, four-eyes!_ ” 

She'd come home with bruises and black eyes and swear she had just tripped over her own feet, but her brother was the only one that didn't buy it. He’d bring Hannah a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a _Metallica_ t-shirt to help with the swelling, and sit across from her on her bed while she went on about how much she hated those meat-heads.

“ _No matter what, don't let them see you cry_.” He’d tell her. “ _T_ _hat’s what they want, Han. They want to see you hurt._ ”

Hannah didn't cry when she stood in the backyard as her father buried the family dog. “ _He had a good lif_ _e_ ,” Her mother told her. “ _He knew he was loved.”_

She didn't cry when her dad got the call the next year that he was to be stationed in Cambodia. They had moved around so much due to his military career that Hannah knew he was bound to be stationed out of the country at some point. After all, they couldn't follow him  _everywhere._

Hannah didn't cry when her mother sat her and Benjamin down at the table after school one day and told them that their father was never coming home. That he and his squad had been gunned down in a town they were helping to evacuate.

Hannah didn't cry at the funeral. Or at any of the military ceremonies. She only watched her mother slowly lose her mind, talking to the walls and shutting herself away in her room, leaving Hannah and her brother with no choice but to fend for themselves.

For a while, they lived off grilled cheese, tomato soup, and the monthly $1,200 they received from the government following their father’s death. Every evening, Hannah would wake her mother up to a plate of food and a glass of ice water, never forgetting to kiss the top of her head and turn on her favorite TV station.

Except, one day, her mother didn't wake up for dinner.

“Mom?” Hannah gently shook her by the shoulder, the room only dimly lit by the setting sun. “ _Mom?”_

Hannah reached over to the nightstand to pull the lamp cord, worry settling in her stomach. With a small _click_ , the room was instantly filled with warm light. Hannah returned her gaze to her mother, to find scattered across the mattress an empty orange pill bottle next to a bottle of whiskey.

“Mom, wake up.” Hannah’s voice wavered, and she shook her mother more forcefully. She felt her chest heaving and a lump rising in her throat, and it wasn't long before the panic set in. “ _Please_ , no,” Hannah said quietly, not sure what to do, what to say, what to _think._ “ _Mom_!”

She picked up the pill bottle, not understanding any of the big words or what they meant. She tossed it onto the bed and turned her focus back to her mother, taking her hand. It was _cold_. Hannah felt tears forming in her eyes, unfamiliar, unwelcome, and she quickly blinked them back.

“ _Benny!_ ” She shouted over her shoulder, her voice shrill and panicked.

 

Police cars and ambulances showed up about seven minutes after Benjamin got off the phone with the dispatcher. Men in uniforms rushed into the house to take their mother away on a stretcher while Benjamin held Hannah close in the kitchen, watching everything unfold. A plump lady in a polka-dot skirt came in to talk to them about their family- _or lack thereof._

Hannah packed her life into a suitcase that night. Science fair trophies, books, photos, and her favorite stuffed animal were all crammed into a suitcase almost as tall as she was. She held her brother’s hand tight in the back of the plump lady’s car, not sure what they were doing, or where they were going from there.

Hannah was eight years old when a bunch of adults in a small room signed her away to a foster family on the other side California.

“ _For right now, we’re going to have to separate you and your brother. Don't worry, this is only temporary- it’s just until we can locate a foster family closeby that’s willing to take you both_.”

The bright blue LED “ _Southern_ _California Youth Advocate Facility”_ sign lit up the parking lot in front of the building where two cars were parked. One for Hannah, and the other for Benjamin.

Hannah exited the building, dragging her suitcase along as she searched for her brother. As soon as she spotted Benjamin standing next to the plump lady beside one of the cars, she took off running in his direction. Her suitcase rattled behind her, wheels threatening to come unhinged, until she met her brother with a warm embrace in the parking lot.

Hannah hugged Benjamin around the middle while he tightened his arms around her shoulders. She couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying, but this time she couldn't stop herself from breaking down into tears, burying her face in his shirt.

“I don't wanna go,” Hannah sobbed, clutching onto her brother as if he’d disappear if she let go.

“Me either, Han,” Benjamin sniffled. “They said it won't be for long, though, just until-”

“I know what they said, Benny,” Hannah cut him off, not wanting to hear it again. “I'm just gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Benjamin said, hugging Hannah tight again before backing up to look at her. 

Hannah messily wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, meeting her brother's gaze with tears in her eyes.

“But _hey_ ,” Benjamin put his hands out to squeeze Hannah’s shoulders and smile. “You packed that _Metallica_ t-shirt I gave you a long time ago, right?” 

“Of course,” Hannah smiled a little bit.

“How about this,” Benjamin began. “Every time you miss me, just put that shirt on, close your eyes, and think of all the happiest memories you have.”

Hannah thought for a moment. “Like on the fourth of July, when dad accidentally set the bush in the front yard on fire and we all made s’mores over it?” Hannah giggled.

Benjamin laughed, too. “Yeah, like that.”

Hannah just looked at him for a moment, smiling, then tackled him again in a big hug. “I love you, Benny.” She said into his chest.

Benjamin pressed a light kiss to the top of Hannah’s head as he hugged her back, everything illuminated in blue from the sign out front. 

“ _I love you too, Han_.”

Hannah slept in the car on the way to her new foster home. And it wasn't long before she had to move again. And again. And again. To different cities and different states. Every time she started getting used to a place or a family, she had to pack up and move again. Years passed by, and she never saw her brother.

Not once.

Or ever again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lore


	9. The Width of a Circle

Hannah nearly tackled Mike to the ground like an aggressive football player, wrapping him in the biggest bear-hug of her life. He stumbled back at the sudden force, but chuckled as he returned the tight hug.

Hannah had lost everything good in her life. It had all been ripped away from her. Everything. Her home, her parents, her morality. Hannah had gotten used to good things being short-lived.

 _… But not Mike_. Not this time.

“You dumb fucking idiot, I thought I’d never see you again,” Hannah said into his shoulder, tears welling up in her eyes. She just hugged him harder and buried her face in the cotton of his grey sweatshirt, not caring if she cried on it.

“You’re still _alive_?!” Amanda’s shrill voice interrupted the otherwise happy moment, and Hannah wiped her eyes and turned around.

“He's been _alive_ the whole goddamn time, shit-for-brains!” Hannah yelled at her.

Amanda held up her hands in defense, while Hannah put two and two together and wheeled back around to look at Mike. “How _are_ you awake? And how the fuck did you even get here?”

Mike shrugged. “The hospital is like, right there.” He pointed across the street.

Hannah, Amanda, and Sam looked to where he pointed. Sure enough, the hospital was, in fact, right there.

“But… You were in a _coma_.” Hannah said. “For _two_ _week_ s.”

Mike looked sort of troubled. “Only two weeks?”

“How are you _here_?” Sam chimed in from beside Amanda. They all wanted answers. It just seemed too… Convenient. Like this was all some elaborate scheme that Hannah wasn’t in on.

“I don't know, man, I was in some white room and I kept hearing voices, and then Howard Jones came on the radio, so _that_ was cool-”

“Just get to the point, fuckwit.” Amanda interrupted again, impatient.

“I'm getting there, bitch, chill.” Mike frowned at her. “ _Anyways_ , I was listening to Howard Jones, right? And then this emergency alert came on the radio and they were like ‘ _everyone’s gonna die’_ -” He turned to Hannah. “By the way, did you guys hear about that? The world ending and all that shit?”

“The world isn't ending.” Hannah said abruptly.

“ _What_?”

“Just keep going.”

Mike furrowed his brows, but proceeded anyways. “Well, then I felt like something was… Pulling me. Like, I had to get up and find you guys.” Mike explained. “And so I yanked out all the needles they had in me, drank a lot of water from the sink in the bathroom, and found these old rags-” He gestured to the clothes he had on- the same grey sweatshirt and jeans. “And I headed out of the hospital.”

“And they just _let_ you?” Amanda asked in disbelief.

Mike shrugged. “That place was chaos.” He said. “I guess so many people were getting in wrecks or trying to kill themselves that the hospital didn't know how to handle it.”

“I bet.” Hannah sighed. 

As if on cue, an ambulance sped down the road beside the group, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Everyone watched it pass, silent.

Mike let out a small laugh. “Another one bites the dust.”

Sam cracked up across from him.

Hannah turned to Mike with a pointed look. “That’s fucked up, Mike, don't say shit like that.”

“Hey, I mean, I should get a free pass. I’ve been asleep for two weeks.” He smiled that dumb smile of his at Hannah. “Speaking of which, is anyone else hungry? I came over here to get a milkshake, but you guys showed up.”

“I’m fucking _starving_ , thanks for asking.” Jamie said, earning the focus of the group. She tossed her cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it, putting it out.

“ _Wait who’s that_ -”

“Sam is paying for Waffle House, let's jet.” Hannah patted Mike on the shoulder and nodded towards the direction of Waffle House. “You've got a lot to catch up on, bud.”

* * *

 Mike was confused.

“So… There _is_ no asteroid?”

“Yup.” Hannah said through a mouth-full of waffles. She had spent the past fifteen minutes explaining to Mike all the intricate details, and his head was so fogged up and cluttered that he could hardly comprehend anything. Not only that, but the mounted television over the breakfast bar was showing the apocalypse-esque riots and destruction on the news channel. Everything was a _lot_ for Mike.

“And the asteroid is actually an… Evil spaceship coming to destroy Earth?”

Hannah shrugged. “Well, we don't _know_ that, but the crew of that spaceship pretty much enslaved an entire species in a nearby solar system, so it's pretty safe to assume that they’re coming for us next.”

“But… It’s a nightmare ship like ours, right?”

Hannah nodded, pulling a small flask out of her coat pocket and unscrewing the top. “That’s also a theory.” She said as she poured a shot- _or two_ \- into her coffee. “They could be headed here to get nightmare fuel _and_ destroy our ship while they’re at it.”

“Why would they do that?” Mike raised an eyebrow.

Amanda spoke up. “Because it’s the only thing in the universe that stands a chance against them.”

“ _Oh shit._ ” Mike said quietly. He looked between Hannah and Amanda a few times. “So you mean… _We’re_ gonna pilot that hunk of shit and go fight space-Hitler?”

“I guess you could say that.” Hannah said nonchalantly.

“This is some freaky Star Wars shit, guys.” Mike said. “Do we even know how to fly a spaceship?”

Sam smiled from the opposite end of the table, next to Jamie. “I mean, I _did_ win the Hi-G motor derby, didn't I?”

“That was a _hoverbike_.” Mike said. “We’re talkin’ a whole spaceship. With _weapons_ and _shields_ and shit!”

“So we figure it out,” Hannah said, taking a bite of her toast like it was no big deal. “If we don't do this, no one else will.”

Mike took all of this in, struggling to process exactly what they were getting themselves into. He thought it would all be _over_. That the battle at Amanda’s house with the Mega Spider would be the end of this shit charade, and he could die in peace as the house went up in flames. The last thing he wanted was to get sucked into the same bullshit as before.

Mike sighed heavily. “Guys, I’m all for being _Earth’s Mighty Defenders_ , but…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I think we need to pick our battles.”

Hannah stopped chewing her bite of toast. “ _What?_ ”

Mike immediately began to backtrack. “I'm just saying, I mean, won’t the government eventually figure this out?” He looked around to Sam and Amanda for backup, but they were both staring at their plates, avoiding this confrontation.

“Are you _really_ pussying out right now?” The edge in Hannah’s voice was clear as day, her patience running thin.

“No, but-”

“But _what?!”_ Hannah raised her voice.

“Maybe we don’t _have_ to save the world this time!” Mike blurted out.

“We have no fucking _choice_ , _Benjamin_!” Hannah exploded, slamming her fists down on the table. The silverware audibly shook against the plates as all eyes turned to Hannah in shock.

Hannah’s face went scarlet and she stood from the table hastily, storming out of the Waffle House. The bell on the door rang as she left, and the four remaining at the table shared an awkward glance.

“Uh…” Sam broke the silence between the four. “Anyone know who Benjamin is?”

 


	10. Big Brother

Hannah sat on the curb by Jamie's car, anxiously combing her fingers through her hair. She hadn't taken a shower in a couple of days and it was starting to show, but personal hygiene was probably the least of her worries at this point. There was no doubt the dark circles under her eyes were worse than ever before- even worse than when she’d spend restless nights in Mike’s hospital room, trying to find a comfy way to lie down in the tiny armchair.

She hadn't slept at all at Sam’s house the night before. Not even the booze could shake the sobering reality that the fate of all humans rested in the hands of a few teenagers. That, despite being significantly younger than the rest of them, Hannah was the only one _trying_.

The bell on the door rang from behind her, and Hannah didn't have to turn around to recognize the shuffled footsteps of Mike as he walked towards her. He let out a grunt as he clambered his way down to sit next to Hannah on the curb, resting his elbows on his knees and letting out a long breath.

“I know I sound like a prick.” Mike said quietly.

Hannah scoffed. “Yeah.” She agreed. “I guess some things never change.”

Mike fiddled with the rolled-up cuff of his sweatshirt, twisting it around his wrist. “It just…” He sighed. “It’s fuckin’ scary, okay?” His voice broke a little bit as he spoke.

Hannah looked over at him, trying to read his expression.

“The thought of, like, having to go back into this nightmare and do it all again,” Mike clarified, his face twisting up into an expression Hannah could only label as _pain._ “I just want it to be over.”

“I do too, Mike.” Hannah reached across the space between the two and put a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “But you have to understand that this is _real_. And this is going to happen whether or not we decide to fight against it.”

Mike blinked back the tears that started to form in his eyes, and looked over at Hannah. “I don't think I can do it.” He barely said the words loud enough, but Hannah heard them nonetheless.

“You _can_.” Hannah assured him. “Why do you think I came to visit your stupid ass every day in the hospital? Or why I always turned the radio on and left water by your bed?” She asked, to no answer- just a confused stare from Mike. “It's because I believed in you, Mike.” Hannah said. “I always fuckin’ believed in you, no matter how bad things were looking or how many days passed without a sign, without a single _movement_ , I always _believed in you_.”

“But… Why?”

Hannah shook her head. Wasn't it _obvious_?

“I had no choice but to believe that you'd come back.” She whispered. “That last bit of hope that you'd wake up, that there was still a soul inside that cold fuckin’ body on the hospital bed…” Hannah felt a lump rise in her throat and her eyes stung with tears. “It was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.”

Mike took a moment to contemplate this, and Hannah could almost see the gears in his head turning. “I… I didn't think I meant that much to anyone.”

Hannah scoffed, eyes locked with Mike’s. “You mean the _world_ to me, dumbass.”

Mike closed the space between them in a hug, an awkward angle for two people sitting on a curb, but effective nonetheless. Normally, Hannah wouldn't let anyone so much as _touch_ her, but something about Mike’s strong, sturdy arms wrapped around her shoulders felt so safe and so warm, like it was something she had been missing out on for years.

There was a youthful innocence to the embrace that Hannah hadn't felt since the last time she saw her brother. She felt secure. And loved. The sort of unconditional love you can only get from family members- because no matter how much you get on each other’s nerves, you can't help but love them. And maybe Mike was less like a friend to her, and more like a big brother.

After a few long moments of hugging, Mike pulled back and wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, chuckling a little bit. “Sorry.” He muttered.

“Don’t be.” Hannah would be lying if she said she wasn’t fighting back tears herself.

She was pretty sure she hadn’t ever _actually_ seen Mike cry. Hannah had seen him angry, sure, but watching the tears falling down his cheeks, flushed pink in the cold breeze of January, was far more heartbreaking than anything she had witnessed on their adventures. As much as she wanted to stay out of this entire mess and never go near it again, Hannah knew it had to be done. They _had_ to do something. And they simply couldn't do it without Mike.

Hannah lowered her gaze to the asphalt in front of them and sighed a little. "Benjamin is my brother." She almost had to force the words out of her mouth.

"You have a  _brother_?" Mike immediately asked, baffled. "How- Why haven't we ever met him?"

Hannah felt her throat tighten around itself and she rung her fingers together, watching her knuckles go white. "When our..." She bit down on her lower lip, hard, to stop from crying. "When our mom died, we went into foster care. They split us up, and told us we'd be placed in the same home eventually." She explained. "I moved around a lot with different foster families, and I guess he did too, because..." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Because I never fuckin' saw him again, Mike."

A silence fell over the two. Hannah hadn't spoken about her brother for _years_ , she wouldn't dare to talk about him, not wanting to bring the pain back. It was like a wound that never fully healed, just covered up and left to bleed. Mike opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted as the bell on the Waffle House door rang once again. 

A quiet conversation between Sam, Jamie, and Hannah abruptly ended as they caught sight of Mike and Hannah sitting on the curb.

“You okay, Han?” Sam was the first to speak up, lacking the amused, condescending demeanor he usually took on. Hannah thought for a moment that he might _actually_ be concerned about her for once.

“Yeah,” Hannah cleared her throat, shoving the thoughts from the previous conversation to the back of her mind, and pushed herself off the curb to stand up. “ _Yep_.” She repeated, mostly to herself.

The truth was, as soon as she got to her feet, her vision went blurry and spots of black appeared wherever she looked. Panic set in deep in her stomach as a million thoughts raced through her brain at once- _was she dying? What was happening to her?_ Suddenly dizzy and off-balance, Hannah stumbled back against Jamie’s car, holding a hand up to her head. She could hear the concerned voices of her friends and see their figures closing in on her, but everything was fuzzy and muffled, like she was behind fogged-up glass. 

Hannah felt herself falling, but she couldn’t even move her arms out to catch herself. The impact as she hit the the pavement shook through her body, pain searing through every nerve and settling in her head.

 

And then everything went black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update and short chapters! I've been super duper busy with college but I'm really excited to get this plot going and write more! as always, thanks for reading and make sure to drop a comment if you want!


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